A Wishful Night
by Rhapsidiast
Summary: MirSan OneShot. Set right after Mount Hakurei. As he watched her sleep, he fought against the raging emotions coursing through his veins. He needed to protect her. She needed to keep on living. He wouldn't let her die with him. Because he loved her.


**Author's Notes:** Set after episode 118: "Into the Depths of Mount Hakurei". Please read and review.

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><p><strong>A Wishful Night<strong>

_If this battle with Naraku ever comes to an end, and the curse of my wind tunnel is broken... if I make it out alive... If we made it that far, would you come live with me... would you bear my children, Sango? _

_An Inuyasha fanfiction by ZantSpellcaster_

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It was the first night after the horrors of Mount Hakurei. Deep blue eyes gazed at the blackness of the sky above, filled with glittering stars, and wondered if those stars had ever seen their world where peace loomed and evil was suppressed, where tears were not sacrificed and lives were not taken, where demons did not rampage the lands and the Shikon Jewel never existed. He wished for such a world, and had fought with it for months already with his companions: the hanyou Inuyasha, the miko Kagome, the kitsune demon Shippo, the neko demon Kirara… and most importantly, the taijiya, Sango.

The fire flickered and Miroku could feel the heat of the flames against his skin, so utterly different to the coolness of the night. It was cold, and he was grateful for the fire that they were gathered around – at least he did not need to worry about Sango feeling cold and uncomfortable. He knew that she must be tired and exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

The deep blue eyes moved to the sleeping figures around the fire. There was Kagome in her sleeping bag, with Shippo and Kirara curled near her head. Inuyasha was sleeping in the tree above them, and he was keeping watch for the group – he had insisted so, knowing that there was no way sleep would come to him that night. His gaze rested on Sango, curled peacefully on the mat by the fire, breathing deeply as she slept. She looked truly like a real woman when she slept, and Miroku liked to watch her. It wasn't as if he didn't regard Sango as a woman… she was his comrade, someone he fought against, and he refused to acknowledge her as a woman whom he could spend his life with. It wasn't because he didn't love her… it was because he did.

"_You don't know who you're dealing with. What meaning does my life have without the woman I deeply care for? I would sacrifice my life for hers!"_

A small smile crossed his lips and he lowered his gaze, his dark blue eyes resting on his right arm, covered and stringed with sea blue beads that protected those around him from the horrors of the curse of his hand. He had lost his control back then, had unknowingly blurted out his feelings when he had tried his best to suppress them. He wouldn't ask Sango for her hand, as much as he wanted to. He couldn't. Not to her. He cared too much about her to be able to do so. No… all he could do for now was to enjoy every moment with her, because he might die. He would protect her with his life, never hesitating, because he wanted her to live.

He did not know when, in their long journey, his feelings had began to surface for the beautiful taijiya. All he knew was that it had taken a very short time for him to begin to protect her, to fight his battles for her. He cared about her deeply, there was no doubt about it. He had opened his kazaana, had sucked in the saimyosho without hesitation because he only feared for her life, not his.

But he had almost failed. He had carried her, along with the Hiraikotsu, and had ran deeper into the depths of the sacred mountain, but he had failed. The poisonous insects' poison was too painful, and his vision blurred as he ran blindly, all to save her. And despite his determination, his legs had given way beneath him and he fell, unable to protect Sango any longer. Pain… blinding, excruciating pain coursed through his veins, and sweat covered his face as he clenched his teeth, forcing the agony away. He had to save Sango… but he couldn't. And he had gazed upon her unconscious face and his heart ached, deeper and far more painful than the torture he felt from the poison, because he could not protect her.

It was only pure, sheer luck that had saved them. Pure luck that he had ran far enough into the mountain, back onto sacred ground.

He had heard her gentle voice calling him, but her voice had been terrified. And he tried to break away from the darkness, from the pain, as he tried to open his eyes. Then he felt moisture on his cheek, and that was the last straw. Sango couldn't cry. Not for him. Certainly not for him. His body screaming, he forced his eyes open, forced the words of relief that she was finally conscious again. He had been glad. At least he had carried her this far and protected her this far, enough so she could protect herself again and survive. She was a ruthless fighter, a strong woman, and he knew she would be alright.

But she had refused to leave. Why? Why had she done such a thing?

"_If you can't go on… then we'll die here together!"_

Preposterous words. He could not accept. Allow her to die along with him? Impossible! He would never have allowed such a thing. Sango had her life ahead of her, not as pure and innocent as many woman, but she truly deserved happiness. There was simply no way he would allow her to accompany him in death, not when she had the liberty of obtaining life. He gritted his teeth, his eyes closing in pain, but his body was too weak now. The poison… It was excruciating… He moved his hand against her back, his mind screaming at her to run, to save herself, but he could not bring himself to say the words. He was incapable of doing so, and he was angered because of it. In his pain, he could only manage to say her name, his voice low and soft instead of hard and commanding.

If it wasn't for pure luck, they would have died. _Sango_ would have died.

Miroku clenched his right hand tightly, his fingers digging deep into the cloth that had covered his hand. He had been too weak to force the words, too weak to say "Sango, don't. Run. Live," in Mount Hakurei, and he was frustrated with himself. He had been occupied, but now they could finally have a peaceful night to themselves again, he found his thoughts plagued with these feelings of anger directed to himself.

He loved her. And, more than anything, he wanted her to bear his children. With the other women, he did not particularly care – he needed a child to bear the curse in his place if he died in his battle with Naraku, and any woman would be able to provide him that child. But that woman cannot be Sango. Why? It was because… he loved her. Desperately so. And if they were to have a child, he wouldn't want that child to have the curse of the kazaana. He wouldn't wish the curse on anyone, but if he was forced to choose, he would choose anyone, except for a child he could possibly have with Sango. A child, with features both from him and the woman he deeply cared for… he would love that child fiercely, and would never allow the child to bear the curse. So for now, he needed to keep his feelings aside. He had two options, and two only: either to allow another woman to bear his child to carry the curse in his place, or to fight to his death against Naraku so he could have the chance to lead a normal life with Sango. To have a child who would never have the curse of the kazaana.

For now, he was fighting for Sango's safety. Her life came before his. He knew she loved him, just as how he loved her. And that made it more painful.

"Miroku…?" a gentle voice broke through his thoughts and Miroku raised his head in surprise, his deep blue eyes immediately meeting Sango's warm brown ones. Her face was watching him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," Miroku answered smoothly, giving her a rather reassuring smile. "Why wouldn't I be? It's still early. You should get some more rest," he said quietly.

Sango watched his face, her brows furrowed slightly. Much to his dismay, she sat up and moved to him, taking his left hand in hers. "What's wrong?" she asked.

His hand was bleeding. He had dug his nails in far too deep. _Damn it_. But he could see that he had lost this battle. "Will you walk with me?" he asked, rising to his feet. Confused, curious, worried, Sango stood, and they both moved away from the fire to somewhere more remote and private. Miroku sighed, casting his eyes around the forest. It was truly quiet. He could smell the earth and the fresh leaves, and the wind whistled, blowing Sango's hair into her face. She tucked her hair back behind her ear, her eyes expectant. Miroku smiled slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

He shook his head. Sango, he knew, had not remembered her words in Mount Hakurei – how she had wanted to die by his side instead of continuing to fight. "I've been thinking, Sango… About what might happen if I cannot make it out of this battle alive," he said, noticing her eyes widening in surprise.

"What are you saying?" she asked, a small hint of anger in her voice.

"It would probably be a futile attempt on my part if I ask you to stop fighting. I know that. But if I am not to survive, then I ask that you continue fighting in my place. And live," he said, casting his eyes away.

"But… I couldn't possibly…"

"Be strong, Sango," Miroku whispered, turning to face her. His eyes softened and he managed a light and pleasant smile – not at all reflecting the storm of emotions he really felt. "You will be able to win this battle."

"Miroku…"

"It would pain me if you don't survive."

Sango lowered her eyes, clenching her hands slightly. She turned her face away and he could see the blush colouring her cheeks. "Then… In that case… I'll fight and make sure you don't die, so we can win together," she said softly.

It was pure shock that gripped his heart, and he found himself unable to breathe. What was she saying? Was she implying that she would fight her battles for his sake, just as how he was fighting for hers? It was probably wrong for him to feel so, but the emotion that ran through his body was… joy. Pure joy. Happiness. And also sadness. Sadness that they were forced into something like this. "Sango…" Miroku whispered quietly, his eyes clouding with grief.

She looked up at him and smiled, taking his hand in hers again. "Come on, Miroku. You're still bleeding," she said, pulling him back to the camp.

He no longer had two options. He only had one.

He had to fight against Naraku, break the curse, survive, and live and allow her to bear his children.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Another one-shot tribute to my favourite couple, Miroku and Sango. I'm thinking of writing a longer fic for them, maybe something after the canon but we'll see where it goes. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this little piece. Will you please drop me a review and let me know? :D Hopefully, this won't be my last fic for my favourite couple. Thanks for reading!


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